


Commitment

by Aja



Category: Prince of Tennis
Genre: Domestic, M/M, Plot What Plot, tenipuri, tezuryo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-04
Updated: 2006-07-04
Packaged: 2017-10-03 07:59:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aja/pseuds/Aja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(celebrate freedom: write porn)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Commitment

They are kissing on top of the bedcovers, Ryoma beneath Tezuka, Tezuka's long chest pressed against him, Tezuka holding him so tightly his fingers bruise Ryoma's spine. Ryoma gasps when Tezuka pulls his hips up and into him, gasps even though he knows Tezuka like this by now - rough and ready and pounding against him, every single time, because every single time it's _never ever ever ever enough_, and he gasps again just because of that. Tezuka's hands are everywhere, tracing Ryoma's stomach, up to touch the sides of his face, and Ryoma can't stop _kissing_ him, legs wrapping around his waist, arms around his chest, rocking up and up and moaning into Tezuka's mouth because he wants and he wants and he wants.

Tezuka exhales, one sharp burst of arousal and air, then keeps kissing Ryoma, letting Ryoma wind his fingers in his hair, letting Ryoma feel all over how taut and tense he is, how ready he is for this. Ryoma's breath comes short, and he feels suddenly small, tiny. Buchou is everywhere, muscles and arms and neverending legs, eyes dark and bottomless, his glasses atop the long-forgotten pile of their clothes on the floor. Ryoma arches up, wishing for more, forever for more.

Tezuka dips his head and kisses the underside of Ryoma's throat, tongue tracing every muscle and trace of stubble, laving warmth over him until Ryoma is pleading, begging in frantic, panting whispers for everything, for everything Tezuka has and is.

Tezuka shudders and pulls him impossibly closer, Ryoma fighting to align their hips, fighting for friction, for connection, anything. Tezuka cups his chin in his hand and moans into Ryoma's mouth, dragging a cry of need from Ryoma and swallowing it with his kisses.

When he breaks away he gasps, "Move in with me," and it's not even a question.

"Okay," Ryoma gasps back, and it's not even a consideration. They are kissing again, thrusting against each other, and somewhere along the line their hands have become joined, pressed together as tightly as their arms had been wrapped around each other a moment earlier. Ryoma leans his head back and soaks up the look on Tezuka's face. It's enough to make him come.

He's about to close his eyes and give in, but instead he hears himself say, "We should buy a house, Buchou," and this time it's Tezuka who says, "Yes," right away, and then, "Yes," again, slipping one hand down to stroke Ryoma through the climax that hits him at the sound of Tezuka's voice, telling him that over and over again.

His forehead is sticky with sweat but so is Tezuka's, and Ryoma likes it when they are pressed together this way. He stills his breathing and slips his hand down over Buchou's to touch Tezuka's erection. "With a tennis court," he says, light strokes with the tip of his fingers, the way that always drives Tezuka crazy. Tezuka sucks in his breath and then leans down to kiss the nape of Ryoma's neck.

"Close to the club so you won't be any later for practice," he says, but his eyes are full of mirth and happiness, and Ryoma's 'che' of response is sated and happy too.

"Something near a woods so we don't have to jog through traffic," says Ryoma, speeding up his strokes and watching the mirth in Tezuka's eyes cloud over with something else altogether. "So you can go hiking and Karupin can catch squirrels."

"We should - " Tezuka's breath hitches, and he pushes against Ryoma's hand - "arrange something - a housewarming party. Something for our friends."

Ryoma hums and shifts beneath Tezuka to give him better leverage. "Something to make it official."

"Yes," says Tezuka, closing his eyes briefly. Ryoma teases the tip of Tezuka's erection with his thumb and then places it neatly against his bottom lip, flicking his tongue over the sweat and pre-come and sending Tezuka a look that makes him arch his back and tense all over.

"Everyone will know," says Ryoma, his voice falling low all on its own. "Everyone will know about you and me, Buchou."

"Good," Tezuka answers, but it's breathless, and he gasps Ryoma's name as he comes over Ryoma's thighs and stomach, Ryoma stroking him as Buchou bucks his hips, a long, guttural moan drawn from his throat as he thrusts against Ryoma. His hand is still clutched in Ryoma's, sweaty and tight and warm. He keeps his eyes open the whole time so he can look at Ryoma's face. His gaze makes Ryoma feel warm all over.

"Buchou," Ryoma says softly, just to say it. He nudges Tezuka over to the side, swapping their positions so he can snuggle against Tezuka's chest.

"Mmm," says Tezuka in response, less an acknowledgment than a hum of satisfaction. He settles his hand in Ryoma's hair. "We'll have to tell our manager," he says after a moment.

Ryoma, who can barely remember his manager's name, scowls a bit. He doesn't like the idea of press agents and managers getting in the way of tennis, but at least Tezuka handles all that for them both, usually, so all he says is, "It should be a big tennis court. Maybe two or three of them in case anyone else ever wants to play."

Tezuka kisses the top of his head, still smoothing his hair, and Ryoma can feel the smile in his voice through the rumble in his chest when he speaks. "We'll look for a house with a big lawn, then," he says.

Ryoma slides his hand over Tezuka's chest, brushing his nipples with light fingertips. Tezuka shivers all over in response, and Ryoma smiles.

"I need to buy soft drinks later," says Tezuka, lazily reaching for the nightstand where they keep lotion and oil and all the things that make Ryoma squirm in pleasant anticipation of things to come. "You can join me, if you like."

Ryoma watches him attentively as Tezuka coats his fingers with the slick stuff from the bottle. "Hmm," he says. "Grocery shopping together, Buchou?"

Tezuka gives him a knowing look, and flips him gently over onto his stomach.

Ryoma throws a grin at him over his shoulder. "I'll have to think about it," he says. "I'm not sure I'm ready for that kind of commitment."


End file.
